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Participants:

Date:

09/04/2010

Location:

Eastern Weyr: Feeding Pens

Synopsis:

Escaeth's first rising since coming to Eastern.

Rating:

PG-13

Logger:

L'han

It's late night in Eastern Weyr with most folks having gone to sleep already, there are some folks that still remain awake. From a weyr on the east side of the caldera, a light still glimmers beside a rider who has a chair out on the ledge, enjoying the evening air and writing in a hidebound book. On the ledge with him is Escaeth, the green that's been sparkling for quite awhile now. Although she looks edgy enough to fly, she just continues to sit there with her rider. Waiting.

Down below, a small blue dragon sweeps over the feeding pens and lands, crouching to let his rider slip off his strapless neck. The woman lands with grace spoken of many turns of negotiating her dragon's movements and shape, and she reaches a hand up to pull off her goggles, fluffing her short hair and giving it a shake. Gleaming in the starlight, Riordanth spreads his wings and shakes himself, droplets showering down like tiny fallen stars. Someone's been to the lake for a late night swim. Swinging his head around, he senses Escaeth's wakefulness and his mind reaches out to her with a gentle splash of mountain stream's chill - a greeting.

Sweeps. Night time outings are Twylaeth's favorite and it shows as the blue spirals his way downward from the skies above, recently in from the jungles. K'lian also does not much mind being on such a late schedule and has already stripped off goggles, letting them fall around his neck. The gray-limned dragon backwings and lands in the bowl, not far from the pens. A few metallic rings of buckles being undone and Kil is soon dismounting his lifemate and stretching.

There is a strange brown in the bowl near the feeding pens. Iyrith is visiting from Ista Weyr, his rider visiting an old friend here at Eastern. L'rix, his rider, was nowhere in sight. And by the way the brown, with his wings sagging on his back, was so completely asleep, that it must mean his rider must be doing the same somewhere in the bowels of the Weyr.

Solid and steady, Brown Medith appears from Between above the weyr, either having returned from a hunting excursion or some other errand. He begins to wing to the weyr kept by himself and his rider, P'rin, and then suddenly veers off, heading for the feeding pens. Then land outside of the fence itself, with P'rin unstrapping himself and sliding off his big brown's neck, impacting with a thud of his boots on the ground. Whatever business the rider had elsewhere, it did not require he pack heavily enough to worry about needing to unload Medith first.

L'han looks up from his writing with a frown before he nods, finishing whatever he was working on and then closing the book and blowing out the light with him as he carries both back inside the weyr. He is only inside for a little while. Escaeth brushes Riordanth with a greeting of her own, but even he might note the tenseness in the green's mind. And when L'han makes his return from the weyr's depths, he looks to his green and nods. "Go on girl. Just don't get hurt." Escaeth launches herself from the ledge like a green bolt of lightning as she flies across the bowl to the feeding pens. Finding herself a suitable victim, she swoops down and catches the beast, her jaws locked around it's neck to bleed it dry.

Mohria lifts her head to watch both the vanishing light and the approaching Escaeth. "Now how are we supposed to get up there?" she says with a small frown, peering into the darkness to see if there are stairs. "Or does he lock himself away?" she asks, turning towards the other arriving riders with a small smile. Riordanth's mind flares with a sudden fierce joy - the joy of the chase and the joy of a /challenge/ - and he springs over the fence to hastily snatch up a beast to blood, spinning violet eyes keeping Escaeth in his sights at all times. Long teeth snap the beast's neck and he hunkers over it, wings spread and tail lashing the air behind him. Tense, the little blue fuels his body with coppery blood and waits.

There's a trumpeting bellow from Twylaeth, a sudden flare of red in his jeweled eyes. What excitement to return to from such boring patrols! K'lian laughs, patting his lifemate on the flank. "You enjoy yourself," he says quietly, eyes growing somewhat distant. Mohria's words bring him to the present and he approaches her, standing somewhat nearby and following her gaze to the ledge. "I do not know," he murmurs. Twy spares no time and leaps into the pens, downing his prey and beginning to rapidly lap and suck at the blood from its broken form.

Iyrith is awake now, that's for sure. Being roused from his slumber, he is not a very happy brown dragon. His movements are sluggish and without any kind of grace, his over large wings a hindrance on land. He cocked a slowly speeding up eye in the direction of the pen and the green and males blooding their kill. His movements come a little more aware as the mating call begins.

P'rin seemed about ready to say something aloud, either to his brown or to Mohria or K'lian, apparently having spotted them while stretching one leg and then the other, but the sight of Escaeth swooping in to blood, that luxuriously shimmering hide practically a beacon, has his mouth clamming up and ducking as Medith's wings snap back open and pushing up with a few strokes against the air to make a big, striding hop over the fence, far enough from Escaeth to give her space, but close enough to keep her in his line of sight as his large jaws snatch the first herdbeast within reach, not overly picky, this one.

There are stairs, Mohria, but they don't go all the way up to L'han's weyr, but he seems to have prepared for that. A ladder runs from the nearest point of the stairs up to the ledge. He just watches from his ledge, his eyes only for his green as he whispers, "Just take the blood, that's good." The green in question finishes with the first beast, her tongue licking the drops of blood from the carcass as she pounces on another smaller one, her gaze firmly on the males as she bugles. « You all think you can catch me? » There is a beat of a bass drum, not her usual chime as the green eyes up each dragon, considering all carefully. She doesn't take to the sky, not yet.

The older rider turns to look at K'lian, extending her hand. "Mohria," she introduces. "Ah! Stairs." Turning, she strides off without hesitation to said stairs, hopping up them nimbly and then shimmying up the ladder. "Quick, pull it before the rest get here," she says with a coy smile and greeting nod to L'han. Looking around the weyr she takes up a place off to one side, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "Nice view," she says absently, staring down at her lifemate. Below, Riordanth drains his first beast and lifts it in his jaws, tossing it aside for other dragons and scavengers to enjoy. Crouched, his slender talons dig into the earth, punctuating it with little holes as he flexes and then relaxes. In a moment of rare focus, the small dragon lets his wings taste the night air currents, slowly fanning up and down and still shimmering with the dampness from the lake. « I can try, » he replies, his happy tones somewhat lower, but still bright and eager for the off. « Nothing worth having is easy. »

"K'lian," the bluerider answers, easily keeping pace and following to the weyr. Led more by instinct now than anything else. "Blood," he hisses under his breath to his lifemate who gives a clarion call in response to the green's bugle. « One will, others will fall away, » Twylaeth responds to the glowing Escaeth. Once the rider is atop, he stretches and casts an appraising look to L'han. Twy finishes his first kill and is on to the second swiftly, watching the green intently, wings twitching as he itches for flight.

Roused now, by the smell of blood and lust, Iyrith has managed to get his body moving to his satisfaction. With one short hop, he is on a buck just inside the feeding pen. As he leans over to drink so hungrily from the animal's throat, his rider is making his way precariously in the dark with much swearing. The mutterings become clearer as he approaches. "sharding randy big lug of mine. I just wanted one vacation. But no…" the mutterings trail off as he tries to orient himself as to where the riders should be congregating.

"Not sure why you bother trying, old buddy," P'rin calls quietly over to his large brown, but not bitter or angry, just rueful. "You're about dead on your wings after that trip. But g'on, far be it for me t'stop ya." This last comes with a small chuckle as Medith tears into his prey, draining it while still watching Escaeth and ignoring the other males in or near the feeding pens while P'rin looks over and up, and tries to make up his mind if he wants to even bother climbing those steps and ladder, knowing how much of a longshot this is going to be for his big guy. P'rin watches the two blueriders head over and up the stairs and ladders, and with another glance for his lifemate, he follows them, albeit more slowly. His knees crack a little as he gets to climbing up the ladder and he mutters to himself about talking to the Healers for some more fishoil in the morrow. It is only after he arrives at the top that he gives the other riders a nod and moves off to one side and out of the way of anyone else who might be coming up the ladder after him. Only after finishing draining the beast dry and dropping it right where he is does the brown Medith croon toward Escaeth with an edge of boldness. « I will show you, my sweet, how you will want me to catch you before it is all said and done. »

Mohria gets a laugh for her comment on pulling the ladder as L'han looks back to her, "So sure that Riordanth is going to get her?" He looks back down to the dragons again and as some of the riders arrive on the ledge, he smirks. "And off they go…" He seems to be correct, for as soon as the words leave L'han's mouth, Escaeth drops her second beast that she was licking the blood from and with a beat of her wings, leaves the ground, climbing skyward with the hellbent speeds that only the greens are capable of, bugling her call to the Weyr and beyond if her lungs can manage it. « Come and get me boys! Don't just sit there! »

Mohria chuckles, shaking her head at L'han, "Not at all," she says easily, "but it'd certainly make things interesting." Closing her eyes, she breathes in deep and lets it out in a low hiss as down below, Riordanth explodes into the air. Smaller than some of the larger greens, this tiny blue lifts aloft with a bolt of energy vibrating through his frame. His strong heart pumps eagerly, fueled by desire and the hot blood that flows down his throat and splatters his watery topaz hide. Wings find purchase in the thick, tropical air and he only fumbles momentarily as they find their way. The air here, so different than his native High Reaches, costs him an iota of speed before he sorts it all out and surges after the glowing green with a delighted bugle and a mental bell-toll of « Yes! » The chase is on.

There's a faint rumble from K'lian at L'han's words to Mohria. His lifemate coming forth through him, making him upset with the prospect of someone else winning. Taken over by a dragon's weight of passion and desire. He closes his eyes and focuses, drawing in a slow, deep breath. Twylaeth is swift to drop the remains of his second carcass, pushing off with powerful hind legs and a downbeat of those mist-touched wings to take to the skies after her. He stretches out once airborne, trying to get the most of what length and litheness he has to take after the green. « /Never/, my lady, » he calls in response to her taunt.

L'rix is still attempting to find the correct ledge, when he spies what looks to be a lighted weyr over there that could be where people are gathering, he thinks he hears them anyway. Iyrith is calmly lapping the blood from the throad of his first kill, having fallen for the ruse that maybe the green was taking her time. With a startled squeek, he rights himself and pulls his wings down in one fell sweep and with his powerful hinquarters, launches himself aloft. His rider curses aftre him again and then reaches the ladder, "This where the party is?" L'rix calls up.

For his part, P'rin begins unbuckling some of his leathers and removing his gloves. Not really because he expects to get naked that soon. He's just a creature of comfort and he figures when it is all over, he will be heading off to go find someone to burn the lust-failure off with, no doubt. He smirks at the idle banter between the other riders, but doesn't seem inclined to contribute himself, going even more still and quiet after shoving his gloves in his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest as Medith's desire starts to override his own thoughts and self-awareness. The large brown is the last to get off the ground even though he had long ago dropped his blooded kill, perhaps a testimony to his growing turns or just the fact that he had simply returned from another trip shortly before the chase. His expansive wingsails capture air and punch the brown up in steady, rhythmic beats, crooning after the green again, « I will make you mine, my sweet. I will claim you and sate you like none other. » Closing his eyes, P'rin murmurs, "Go get 'er, old buddy," and then lapses quiet, even as L'rix calls up the ladder. He's certainly not about to go inviting another rider of a chasing dragon up here.

Escaeth continues to climb into the night sky above the Weyr, her sleek, lithe form allowing her to cut the air like a knife. The green only glances behind her once to see who's closest to her. It's a game true enough, but the lust for a worthwhile flier is still there. Her desire is starting to rise in L'han as well as most of the riders do too, as he eyes up each of the riders much like the green did. The errant L'rix will see only L'han's head as he calls, "Come on up, before your bonded makes you too loopy to do otherwise." The greenrider simply paces back and forth now, waiting to see what the outcome is from the dragons.

Mohria opens her eyes and turns to K'lian, a slow smirk pulling at her lips at his rumbling protest. "What?" she asks, voice low and taunting. While Riordanth shimmers with the joy and the thrill of the chase, Mohria seems to bear the brunt of the animalistic lust, shifting her body against the wall and running hands through her short hair once more. Tilting her head, she peers in the direction of L'rix's voice, but offers no reply. Lifting a hand, she tugs free the top few ties of her tunic. Once anyone is close enough to the lithe woman, it's clear that Riordanth wasn't the only one swimming. Meanwhile, above, Riordanth pushes on through the night skies, his small form slicing through the pack of chasers. Nimbly he ducks down beneath a larger blue and then swerves to narrowly miss a wing to the face as a brown angles in closer to him. Rumbling with determination and the thrill of a good challenge, Riordanth lets both his wings drop to narrow his profile as he cuts in between two others. His wings flare out again when he's in front of those two and he surges forward, weaving his way through the pack. There's a flicker from his mind at Medith's attitude, but the little blue has no focus to spare for the antics of others. His full focus is on his flight and on chasing after Escaeth.

There's no reply from K'lian now, caught up in the flight as he is. Eyes are half-closed and he wavers on his feet slightly. Seeing as his dragon does and not here in this earthly chamber. He does drift somewhat nearer to L'han, but not too close. Twylaeth zips in and out amongst the others, especially those unused to such weather. He was born in a more tropical place and had always been at one, so the thermals and the air is easy and familiar to him. He tucks his wings in for a dive, skimming nearer the ground to avoid the dense grouping above and try to get ahead.

Putting a hand on the bottom rung of the ladder, L'rix calls up a jovial "Thanks!" and swings himself up to the stairs. He's going to hug the door at the moment, nodding as his way of introduction. His own brown has taken a similar state of absolute silence. In the skis above, his bonded was pulling himself higher and higher, the large wings that had hindered him on land now worked so effortlessly that they barely made a sound. L'rix leans against a nearby wall and scuffs his heel into the ground, almost like a shy boy at his first Gather.

After an intake of breath and audible exhale, P'rin stirs enough to try to run his hand through his hair, only to be blocked by the cap he had forgotten. Muttering slightly in distracted state, he unbuckles and pulls it off and stuffs it in a pocket with one of his gloves and goggles. Then he sighs softly again, more in relief now, and runs that hand through his hair, shaking it out a little before going still again, arms crossing, and eyes going shut. In the skies, Medith plods on through the sky, his powerful wings surging him on forward toward the spritely, shimmering green. He seems to ignore the rest of the chasers as they weave in and out around him, and focuses more on the task of trying to keep up with the green as she may zig or zag to and fro. That seems to be all that occupies his energy for the time being, grateful that he is well-used to the air currents at this weyr to give him that slight edge, perhaps, and make up for his size and fatigue.

L'han looks from rider to rider, but sightless here as his green is doing the very same thing in the skies, looking over each dragon. « So many come into the skies for little me? And yet you're all back there! » She enjoys the thrill of being chased, as she flies further and faster, even though it's draining her stamina fast… the green has quite a bit of endurance, but not like the golds and surely not like those chasing her. The tireness has begun to set in, such that the green is no longer climbing, but merely staying at the same altitude, flapping her wings less.

Riordanth is struggling through the unfamiliar tropical air, it's true. This being his first flight here, he does have that disadvantage. Still, he pushes forward through the thicker currents, and Mohria thanks the lake for being completed just in time to allow her dragon to have some more strenuous exercise. Riordanth's energy and enthusiasm is unflagging as he soars after her, pushing forward with a few swerves to avoid wayward wings and tails while he pushes for the front. Sensing her flagging energy as she levels off, the little blue pushes forward with another surge of desire and excitement. « I'm coming! » Maybe that gleeful comment is why Mohria suddenly presses a fist to her lips to try and stifle her laughter. "Not /yet/, Rio," she snickers.

Once past some of the slower browns and a couple bronzes, Twylaeth catches a thermal and surges upwards, coming back to a level nearer to the one the green is at. Angle here, tuck in wings there. He nips at a smaller brown that attempts to overtake him, bugling in fury as he presses all that much more. K'lian's breath quickens as the flight gets closer to the apex, hands curling into fists at his sides.

Iyrith's sharpe gaze allows him to see the signs of tiredness and adjust accordingly. The green's stamina may have been waning, but his was just begining to buzz to life. As he arrows himself to an area of sky that is unencumbered at that moment, he waits. The hunter. He is laying his snare for the green prize, or at least that's what he hopes he's doing. Like his rider, this brown is not the most experienced chaser. L'rix is currently bitting his lower lip as he mumbles to himself, lips barely moving. Almost like a teenager rehearsing the next words he will attempt to utter to the girl who has caught his eye.

As the chase progresses and Escaeth levels off a bit, Medith beats his powerful wings a bit harder, still having some energy left in him, it seems, or too preoccupied with the thought of catching tail to give up now. His strategy is a bit straight and direct, it seems, as he pretty much just continues doggedly after the beautiful green. His rider, on the other hand, unfolds his arms from across his chest and lowers them to the side, sensing the beginning of the end, perhaps. His breathing gets a little more shallow, and he cracks his eyes opened, giving L'han a hot look to mirror the desire in his browns multi-facted eyes. P'rin then licks his lips briefly, taking an awkward step forward and away from where he had been leaning.

It is closing to the end as the green eyes her chasers, the dragons of lust growing closer with each wingbeat and so the green bugles as her flight brings her more closer to the central pack and away from those attempting to find clear air to get to her. L'han glances back to P'rin with a similar look to the one given him, but it's his dragon's choice buddy. Not his. And it looks like one of the center pack of blues will get hold of his Escaeth as the green grows tired.

Riordanth pushes forward with the pack and suddenly ducks down beneath the flagging green. Turning his body so he's briefly upside down, his talons and wings and tail reach to ensnare the green, bugling his triumph as he twines with her. On the ledge, Mohria spares a brief glance for the other riders, her alto voice a sharp command. "Out." And she'll kick the ladder down after them, too, before closing the distance to L'han and pulling him against her as their dragons twine above.

Twylaeth is pushing, pushing so hard and trying to get so near. There's a bugle of dispair as Riordanth beats him to the glowing green and he snaps his wings in, descending into a sudden spiral. Rather than take the ladder, K'lian joins in his dragon's frustration and as Twy passes by the ledge, he steps away to land neatly on the blue's back. The flight giving them that even tighter bond to allow such an act. Away to find someone to take out the pent up frustration with.

Iyrith was right! With an aquillian cry that rends through the noise created by his fellow chasers, her dives for his pray, talons outstretched and…..he misses?! That can't be right. With a look of suprise, where he thought the wily Escaeth would be, was nothing more than empty air. Swinging his magesticly pale head towards the group of blue, he spies where his prize was, with the blue of her choice. With a muted rumble in the back of his throat, he swings his great wings out and turns towards the lake. His rider, upon hearing the order from the winning rider, jumps a little and heads right out of the door he was hugging. He will head back to the cot where her was sleeping. Or he could find the girl he was visiting here. His blood pounds in his chest when he thinks of that second option. Yes, she would be comforting. And then, his form headed off towards the lower caverns.

A soulful keening wail is issued by Medith and what he thinks of that capture by the much more spry Riordanth and the large brown breaks off, banking out of the airspace and down toward the weyr, already sulking before he impacts with the ground in a spray of earth and stone. P'rin is sighing and already on the move out and off the ledge before Mohria even speaks, having seen the outcome in his dragon's mind. Unfortunately, the veteran rider is forced to pick his way down the ladder a little slower than the others, but once he gets down and starts his way down the stairs, he may be heard consoling his brown with, "Don't worry, old buddy. We have a lot of pretty green dragonets who will be having their maiden flights in a turn or so, you always fair better with maiden flights and you know it. Don't try to deny eyeing that one green I saw you eyeing the other day. What was her name? Jhath? Yeah. You'll do alright, buddy." And with that, the brown rider goes off to take his sexual frustrations elsewhere.